The Avaricious and Prodigal — Canto VII

"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!" Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began; And that benignant Sage, who all things knew, Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear Harm thee; for any power that he may have Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."

Then he turned round unto that bloated lip, And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf; Consume within thyself with thine own rage. Not without cause is this journey to the abyss; Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought Vengeance upon the proud adultery."

As sails inflided by the wind collapse, Entangled, when the mast snaps suddenly; So fell to earth the cruel monster. Thus we descended into the fourth chasm, Gaining still farther on the dolesome bank Which all the evil of the universe insacks.

Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many New toils and sufferings as I beheld? And why doth our transgression waste us so? As doth the billow there upon Charybdis, That breaks itself on that which it encounters, So here the folk must dance their roundelay.

Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many, On one side and the other, with great howls, Rolling weights forward by main force of chest. They clashed together, and then at that point Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde, Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"

Thus they returned along the lurid circle On either hand unto the opposite point, Crying their shameful metre evermore. Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about Through his half-circle to another joust.

And I, who had my heart well-nigh transfixed, Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me What people these are, and if all were clerks, These tonsured ones upon the left of us."

And he to me: "All of them were asquint In intellect in the first life, so much That there with measure they no spending made. Clearly enough their voices bark it forth, Whene'er they come unto the two half-circles Where the opposing fault divides them. Clerks those were who no hairy covering Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals, In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."

And I: "My Master, among such as these I ought forsooth to recognise some few, Who were infected with these maladies." And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest; The undiscerning life which made them sordid Now makes them unto all discernment dim. Forever shall they come to these two buttings; These from the sepulchre shall rise again With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn."

"Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world Has taken from them, and has put them in this scuffle; Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it. Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce Of goods that are committed unto Fortune, For which the human race each other buffet."

"For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever has been, of these weary souls Could never make a single one repose." "Master," I said to him, "now tell me also What is this Fortune, which thou touchest on, That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"

And he to me: "O creatures imbecile, What ignorance is this which doth beset you? Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her. He whose omniscience everything transcends The heavens created, and gave who should guide them, That every part to every part may shine, Distributing the light in equal measure; He in like manner to the mundane splendours Ordained a general ministress and guide."

"That she should change at times the empty treasures From race to race, from one blood to another, Beyond resistance of all human wisdom. Therefore one people triumphs, and another Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment, Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent. Your knowledge has no counterstand against her; She makes provision, judges, and pursues Her governance, as theirs the other gods."

"Her permutations have not any truce; Necessity makes her precipitate, So often cometh who his turn obtains. And this is she who is so crucified, Even by those who ought to give her praise, Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute. But she is blissful, and she hears it not; Among the other primal creatures gladsome She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices. Now let us descend to greater wretchedness."

Already sinks each star that was ascending When I set out, and too much stay forbids. We crossed the circle to the other bank, Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself Along a gully that runs out of it. The water was more sombre far than perse; And we, in company with the dusky waves, Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.

A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx, This tristful brooklet, when it has descended Down to the foot of the malign gray shores. And I, who stood intent upon beholding, Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon, All of them naked and with angry look.

They smote each other not alone with hands, But with the head and with the breast and feet, Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth. Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest The souls of those whom anger overcame; And likewise I would have thee know for certain Beneath the water people are who sigh And make this water bubble at the surface."

"Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened, Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek; Now we are sullen in this sable mire.' This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats, For with unbroken words they cannot say it."

Thus we went circling round the filthy fen A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp, With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire; We came at length unto a tower's foot.